I Wont Ask for Much this Christmas
by Car
Summary: "Fun?" England gasped. "What part of sitting on a smelly old fat man's lap is fun to you? Unless of course, there's some disturbing fetish of yours I'm unaware of." Fun Christmas shenanigans with America and England. Merry Christmas, everyone!


"This is quite possibly the worst bloody idea you have ever concocted in that sawdust filled aperture you call a brain since that blasted flying platform of yours in '56."

"Oh shut up, Scrooge. This is gonna be fun!"

"Fun?" England gasped. "What part of sitting on a smelly old fat man's lap is_ fun_ to you? Unless of course, there's some disturbing fetish of yours I'm unaware of."

America laughed loud and long, throwing a friendly arm over his less-than-friendly friend's shoulders. "Come on dude, don't be a Grinch. It's Christmas! It's the most wonderful time of the-"

"If you even _think_ of finishing that sentence, I will single handedly murder you with that string of garland over there."

America mimed zipping his lips shut, trying his best to forge a look of fear, but was easily exposed by the playful glint in his eyes. "Okay, no more carols. But seriously dude, _smile_ or something, we're about to talk to Santa!"

England scoffed. "That…_thing_ over there is not Santa Claus, and you know that just as well as I do!" He paused for a beat. "In fact, Finland would be positively scandalized to be confused with the likes of him."

"I _know_, England. _God_," America whined, receiving another scoff from the older nation. "That's totally not the _point_!"

"Honestly, America. There is no need to act like such a colony."

"I'm _not_ acting like a colony!" America cried with a pout. He crossed his arms stubbornly across his chest as England smirked. "Oh, shut up."

"I didn't say anything."

"You wanted to." America immediately perked up from his slump when the line started inching forward. "Hey! It's almost our turn! Sweet!"

England rolled his eyes, trying to ignore that he and America were at least double the height of the rest of the occupants of the line. "Oh joy."

"See? That's the spirit! I knew you had it in you!"

"Oh belt up! That was sarcasm, you git."

The younger nation chuckled, ruffling England's already messy hair. "Just start thinking about what you want for Christmas so you can tell Santa."

"Can I ask for you bugger off?"

America beamed. "Nope."

England sighed. "Well, there go all of my ideas."

"_Englaaand_," America whined, causing England to seriously consider asking the imitation Santa that the blasted boy would _shut the hell up_ with the whining already. "You have to think of _something_! You'll look really freaking stupid if you go up there and not have anything to ask for!"

"I look bloody stupid being in line in the first place!"

America ignored him, his chin in his hand pensively as he stared at the flashy, decorated ceiling of the oversized shopping mall. "You can ask for cooking skills. The rest of the world would be pretty grateful for that."

England flushed. "_Excuse me?"_

"Or smaller eyebrows!"

"Okay, that is _it_," England growled, throwing his hands up into the air before making his way to step over the make-shift Christmas light barrier that was holding the line together. "I don't have to stand here and be insulted like this! You can just go and-"

Unfortunately, England found himself rooted in place by a pair of strong arms wrapped stubbornly around his waist, preventing his escape. "Aw, come on old man, I was only joking!" America grinned, letting him go once he was sure he wouldn't run off. "Just do this with me, will ya? It's our turn next."

England blushed lightly, crossing his arms in a huff and planting a frown firmly on his face. Curse that boy and his embarrassing power over him. "Fine. But if there of one more crack at my cooking or eyebrows, so help me, Rudolph wont be the only one with a glowing red nose."

America responded with an enthusiastic thumbs up as a very unhappy teenage boy in a green elf suit and pointed hat cleared his throat and waved them over. "All right, _young man_," the boy sniggered sarcastically at the oblivious America. "Ready to meet Santa?"

"You bet I am!" America raced through the gate, and with a little leap, landed roughly into the unsuspecting old man's lap. "Hey there, Santa!" He cried as the Santa 'oof'ed in response. "Boy, do I have a list for you!"

The gate was closed, leaving England and elf to themselves as America, no doubt, gave the poor man behind the gate a list of items five miles long.

Clearing his throat, England turned to the boy and offered an apologetic smile. "I do hope they pay you decently for this, lad."

"Not nearly enough, dude."

After a few minutes, the gate was opened once again and England was ushered into the snow-globe shaped room to speak with the Santa in peace. The man forced a smile as England slowly approached the large, gold chair.

"Oh my, you're a big one too, ain't cha?" Santa asked.

"I'm not going to sit on you." England deadpanned.

The Santa visibly relaxed. "Oh, thank the good lord. That young man before you was a heavy one. Didn't look like it, but _sheesh_."

"Yes, he most certainly is," England snickered. "Wouldn't tell him that, however. Unless you want him crying into weight loss shakes for a week."

A knowing smile snuck onto the old man's lips as a mischievous twinkle entered his eye. "Ah, so you must be Arthur."

England blinked. "Yes, that's right. How did…"

"Your friend Alfred had quite a bit to say about you, young man." Santa interrupted. "_Quite_ a bit."

England bit his lip and laced his fingers behind his back, trying to fake an air of indifference as a small blush began to creep its way to his cheeks. "O-oh? That's certainly…interesting."

"Mmhmm." Santa nodded. "I'd say ninety percent of that boy's list was made up of things for you."

England's cheeks flushed deeper. "Was it really? I…I mean…He…?"

The Santa smirked, grateful that the British man couldn't see it under his bushy white beard. "Come to think of it, I think that even the one thing he wanted for himself involved you as well."

At this point, England's face was roughly as bright as a Christmas tree, and his legs had somehow inched their way over to Santa's chair without informing his mind of their trek. Running a hand though his hair and keeping it at the back of his neck, England turned to the old man shyly.

"A-and what m-might that be?"

"Well, that _is_ the strange thing," Santa mumbled. "He didn't ask for anything I could physically _give_ him. He asked me for advice."

England raised an eyebrow. "Advice?"

"On how to get _someone_ to notice him."

"Oh? A-and what did you tell him?"

Santa smiled. "Well, I told him to be patient, because Santa had a feeling that this someone probably feels the same." He paused to take in England's blushing face. "Glad to see I didn't lie to the boy."

O

"Hey! Hey, England! Over here!" America stood on a bench across from "Santa's Workshop" waving his arms wildly. England willed his blush down as he made his way through the crowds of people.

"Yes, yes I see you. Bloody hell, stop waving about like an idiot, would you?"

America grinned, shoving a tissue wrapped object into his hands, "I got you a cookie!" He exclaimed, taking a bite into his own. "Isn't it cute? It looks like a snowflake! I like how they used sugar to make it sparkle like a-"

A hesitant pair of lips making brief contact with his cheek immediately cut him off, almost causing him to drop his cookie in shock. Wide blue eyes locked onto the now withdrawn island nation who was blushing so hotly, America was worried the sugar was going to melt off the cookie.

"England…? What was…?"

England cleared his throat, keeping his eyes locked firmly on his treat. "Y-yes…well...t-that was…that was for the biscuit."

America bit back his remarks about the differences between cookies and biscuits and ran a nervous hand though his hair, developing a blush of his own. "N-no prob, dude."

"Well," England coughed, straightening his coat as America did the same. "Now that _that_ foolishness is over, let's finish that shopping, shall we? It's bad enough you waiting this late to do it, if we wait any longer, the entire building will be cleared out. Come on then!"

"Yup! I'm coming," he called. While England's back was turned he took one last glance back toward Santa and gave the man an appreciative wave before running after his departing friend.

Peaking out from behind the gate, and no longer in his disguise, Finland waved back with a smile.

"Merry Christmas, you two."

* * *

**And Merry Christmas to all of you as well! This was written really quickly just today, because I couldn't stand to not write _something_ Christmasy. Hope you all enjoyed and have a great holiday! :)**

**-Car**


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